GOODBYE TO CLEY (rhymes with fly)

Tomorrow we will drive the 165 miles (4 ½ hour drive on narrow windy roads) from our permanent home to our second house for the last time. I am looking forward to it being over - but it was quite a significant part of our last seven years.

My father-in-law died ten years ago next week. His house, located in the little village of Holt, near Cley, was willed to his three sons. Christopher, the youngest, was very upset with my husband, the oldest, and his decision to sell the house straight away. He felt that it would be nice to go back and relive the times they had spent there. The house was not their childhood home - but interestingly enough, was right across the road from Gresham School which was their home and their school for all their growing up years, as their dad was a live-in school master.

Jan, my father-in-law, was senile for his last few years, but before that he often said how he hoped that when he died, someone would take on his mantle and keep the Day family name alive in his beloved Norfolk. Having recently researched the Day family tree, I know that the family roots in Norfolk goes back as far as census records exist, and no doubt way before that. Our youngest daughter, Andrea, was at the time living and working in Norwich - so we assured him that for the time being at least, his wish would be granted. But two years later, she and her husband moved to Leeds, and the chain was broken.

When we finally received the money for the house sale and the other investments that Jan had wisely made, we felt that it would be sensible to invest it in something that would appreciate - so intended buying property somewhere. We looked at various places - including Ullapool and the far north of Scotland which I fell in love with, but in the end we bought our little house in Cley.

Cley is situated right on the coast road. Its full name is Cley-next-the-Sea, and in the 16^th and 17^th centuries it was an important port. But with silting up and enclosure and all those sorts of things, it is now a good 20 minute walk from the road nearest the sea to the water’s edge. The sea is very rough around there - and the beach is all stones - only sand at very low tide. It contains, as many of you might know, a very important bird sanctuary, and the human population triples whenever a rare species is due to drop in for awhile. Our house is right on the coast road - as it snakes along on the way to the next seaside town, Blakeney.

When we decided to buy in that area, we took a few days to look around at the suitable houses available for our very limited budget, but for all my arguing for the ones with central heating, bigger rooms, a nicer kitchen, closer to the shops that I enjoyed - once Philip has seen this house he knew he had to have it. It looks just like the others in the road - terraced, white painted pebble dash exterior - red tiled roof. But it had off the road parking - a great rarity in cheap houses in Cley - and also, much to our delight, a view of the sea. Only one window had the view, our bedroom window, but the first thing we did after we bought the house, was to floor the attic, and put in a huge window, so we could sip our sherry, and have an even better view out over Philip’s beloved Norfolk coastline. To say we saw the sea itself was a bit of an exaggeration - but we could see the shingle bank that protected the town from the sea - and we knew it was there. The rest of the view was lovely too, with ancient Blakeney Church and the picturesque countryside around Wiveton Hall. Sunsets were often spectacular.

The most noticeable thing about our time in Cley was how Philip changed when we were there. At home and all through the drive there he would be stressed, tired, bad tempered - but as soon as he breathed in the fresh Norfolk air and had a walk down to the sea, he relaxed and became happy and friendly and twenty years younger. We didn’t ever spend long enough on any one visit to feel part of the local population - although in the town of perhaps 200 houses, more than half are owned by part-time occupiers (like us) - and when you walk down the road to the pub in the evening at this time of year (no street lamps) there are very few houses lit up. A good proportion of the properties are for holiday letting - and that will be the fate of ours from next month on. There are a few bed and breakfast places, two good pubs, a few very expensive shops (delicatessen, pottery, art shop and the smoke house for fish) and a lovely huge old church where they often have concerts and that’s about it.

Our decision to sell was partly because we are getting older - and the trip seems longer and harder each time we make it. Our children prefer their holidays abroad, and have only stayed there two or three times in all the years we have had it. I’ve never driven there on my own - and going on the train is very convoluted. I know that Philip’s health problems have influenced the decision - mostly because he wouldn’t want me to have to cope with living in it or selling in on my own. We have doubled our investment, so selling it now is good from that point of view. All it would take is a flood in that area, and it would be much harder to sell - and each time we go, we collect flood warning notices from our front doorstep.

But I know that the money itself won’t make up for what we are really losing - Philip’s contact with his childhood and his memories. And I feel bad about our broken promise to keep the Day family in Norfolk.

So at the end of the week, we will pack up our belongings, giving what we don’t want to a local charity, and sending the rest back here with “A Man with a Van”. We will not even be bothering to clean the house - as the new owners are going to be putting in a new kitchen and bathroom before they let it out. But I am pretty sure that there will be a tear in my eye as we drive off and say our last goodbye to Cley.